083 The Overwhelming Water Technique

Alchemists base their cultivation on the strength of their mental power. For those who have not trained or lack natural talent, their mental energy is often as stagnant as still water. Through special training and stimulation, those with talent can draw forth usable mental power from this "dead pool." As their cultivation deepens, more and more potential is awakened and harnessed. With the increase in mental power, its differentiation and control become the focus of training, giving rise to various levels of mental mastery—

At the first touch, fine control is enhanced; at the second, one can multitask; at the third, mental energy can be projected offensively…

The Tendril Technique is merely the foundation of the Initiation Stage, and the Initiation Stage itself is only the basic level of mental development. Beyond Initiation are further ranks—Armor Breaker, Nightmare, Materialization, and many more. Within Initiation, the branches above the Tendril Technique differ according to one’s tradition, but at the root, the process of developing mental power through the Tendril Technique is a compulsory lesson for every alchemist!

Yet, even this so-called most fundamental Tendril Technique reveals stark differences in talent—some alchemists take just a year or two to master it, while others may need five to ten years! No wonder, then, that some alchemists remain trapped at the Initiation Stage their whole lives, struggling at the lowest rungs of the alchemical path, barely scraping by.

—Excerpt from "Theresa’s Alchemical Notes"

Theresa put down her pen, gazing at the still-wet ink on the page with a sense of accomplishment. Her pride swelled as she looked at the ancient, dignified title on the cover—Theresa’s Alchemical Notes. These notes were hers, and perhaps, centuries from now, they would become a treasured canon among alchemists. Maybe one day, a child would dig them out of some dusty pile, follow their guidance, and become a legend. Or perhaps...

"Perhaps after writing for ten more days, you'll forget where you've stashed it, only to recall three or five years later that you once wrote such a thing," came the lazy voice of the Book Spirit within her mind. This provoked a wave of irritation in Theresa. Still, the Book Spirit was incorporeal, and however much she ground her teeth, there was nothing she could do.

Having finished chiding Theresa, the Book Spirit continued, "Though I suggested you record your studies in a journal for self-reflection, everyone has their own way of keeping alchemical notes. My previous master liked to write every day, recording even trivial daily experiments. Yet among his friends, many only wrote when inspiration struck. Whatever the method, the key is persistence."

Theresa nodded earnestly, placing her notes carefully into her spatial ring. She also resolved to sort through her old experiment logs when time allowed, reconstructing her year-long journey of learning.

Lost in her daydreams, she was interrupted by the Book Spirit: "The notes are secondary. Now that you've broken through to the second touch, though still far from mastery, you can attempt the simplest sigil of the water branch—Tranquil Mind. I'll transmit some basics to your primary consciousness."

At this suggestion, Theresa immediately became alert and prepared as instructed. The moment she was ready, a sudden swelling pain surged in her head, as if a bellows were pumping her brain full of air, causing every cell to expand twice its size. Even as the pressure faded, a sharp, twisting pain replaced it, as though invisible hands were wringing her nerves like wet cloth, twisting and twisting...

Amid this onslaught, Theresa struggled to keep her mind clear. Though weak, her consciousness clung on like a lone boat in a raging sea, battered but unyielding... Time lost all meaning. When at last the agony receded, Theresa was drenched in sweat, as if pulled from water itself.

Lying on the ground, she finally gathered enough strength, but instead of washing up, her first act was to "consult" the knowledge the Book Spirit had mentioned. With a mere thought, an image of an open book appeared in her mind, each word on the page clear as if before her eyes. Whatever trick the Book Spirit had used, unfamiliar characters now revealed their meaning to her, though she could not have translated them word for word into the common language of the continent.

In short, it was a kind of understanding that could not be put into words.

As she slowly absorbed the new knowledge, Theresa found her fingers twitching involuntarily. An urge rose from within her, flooding her entire being. Following her instincts, she rummaged in her belt pouch for a vial of basic magical ink. Using her finger as a pen and the floor as her canvas, she dipped her fingertip and began to write. At first, the indigo marks were a tangled mess, but as the ink deepened, a strange character took shape. As Theresa finished the final stroke, a clear flash of water shimmered, and the ink instantly evaporated. A jet of pure water, two fingers thick, sprang from the spot—though no more than twenty centimeters high, it gushed forth for nearly five minutes before subsiding.

"Water..." Theresa murmured, reaching out to touch the clear spring. As soon as her ink-stained fingers brushed the surface, the remaining ink seeped into the water, tinting a small patch a pale blue.

"Though the 'Water' sigil is the simplest, it is impressive to grasp it so quickly," the Book Spirit said, its voice timely. "Practice often. The 'Water' formula forms the foundation of the water branch’s sigils. Pay attention to the flow of magic when you write it; this will help you guide energy during alchemical processes."

Theresa nodded eagerly, her cheeks flushed, as if she had just received a new toy. She played with abandon, writing character after character. Soon, the entire laboratory was filled with miniature fountains. The outcome was inevitable: a flood swept through Theresa’s alchemy lab...

"How old are you, and still so reckless?" Betty glared at Theresa, who was sneezing repeatedly. She had half a mind to pull her ear and give her a good scolding. But seeing Theresa’s pale, newly healed face and those large, watery eyes, even the hardest heart would have softened.

Sensing Betty’s anger ebb, Theresa seized the chance to sidle up, wrapping her arms around Betty’s waist and nuzzling her, apologizing softly and promising never to do such a foolish thing again. Her gentle, cottony voice was like down feathers floating over the heart, leaving only warmth and tenderness.

Betty sighed at her own softness and stroked Theresa’s long hair. "Haste makes waste. Don’t be impatient. If you’re careless and suffer a backlash from your mental power, it could be dangerous. I trust you understand what’s at stake."

Theresa nodded fervently, her contrite attitude as earnest as could be, making Betty smile helplessly as she held her, her heart full of unspoken sighs.

☆☆☆

"A year and three months, second touch, high in the first tier," Carol withdrew the testing magestone and sighed in admiration. "I've taught for nearly forty years now, and among all my students and disciples, only three have matched your talent—one reached the sixth tier at age fifty; another, now thirty-seven, is a mid-fifth-tier alchemist and may reach the sixth within twenty years. And then... there's Zoe."

Hearing that name, Theresa wrinkled her nose, her expression complicated.

Carol smiled at her reaction. "Zoe may not be likable, but his alchemical talent is extraordinary. That’s how he managed to reach the fourth tier at just seventeen on his very first breakthrough. Still, unless he learns humility, he may stagnate at the fourth tier for a while..."

Theresa tilted her head and asked, "You sent him as an exchange student to broaden his horizons?"

"Exactly," Carol's smile grew even more genial. "Each culture has its own strengths, but the alchemy of the Natural Kingdom is the most refined overall. More experience will benefit his future greatly. But enough about him. Now that you’ve reached the second touch, you should try making magical tapestries. They’re cheap to produce, sell well, and though a bit fiddly, they’re gentle work—failure won’t cause backlash."

At Carol’s emphasis on "backlash," Theresa looked down, embarrassed, and stuck out her tongue.

"Now that you’re at the second touch," Carol continued, "focus on steady progress. Don’t rush ahead. Lay a solid foundation. Advancing from the first to the second tier shouldn’t be hard for you. Take it slowly, build your base well, and everything else will follow naturally."

Theresa listened respectfully, her obedience filling Carol with both satisfaction and pride, prompting him to lecture on at length. By the time Theresa was finally "released," her head was spinning, and even Carol had to gulp down several cups of water before he recovered.

Stepping out and turning past the main hall, Theresa saw Patricia and June taking tea in a corner of the parlor. Spotting her, June brightened and called out cheerfully, "Theresa, you’re finally out! I heard you broke through to the second touch—congratulations!"

Theresa hurried over and, at June’s invitation, took a seat beside him. She had barely sat down when she sensed a wave of hostility—faint but unmistakable. Ever since the incident at Stormkeep, Theresa had become especially sensitive to ill will. She leaned back, making herself comfortable, and gazed at Patricia with meaningful intent for a few seconds before turning to answer June. "Thank you! I pushed myself every day to break through, training until my mental energy was spent, then meditating to recover, then training again. It felt like hell—I never want to repeat it!"

June listened in awe and with a hint of dejection. "You work so hard... If only my health allowed me to train that way. But with my talent, I doubt I’d achieve your results even if I could push myself that hard..."

"Don’t be so pessimistic," Theresa clapped him on the back, her arm draped around his shoulders in consolation. "Talent isn’t everything. The ‘Legendary Warlock’ Houston was once considered mediocre in his youth, wasn’t he? Don’t overthink it—if you love alchemy, that’s all that matters. Forget about ambition and competition. Just enjoy what you do!"

Her words made June’s eyes sparkle with delight, and Theresa laughed with him. Only Patricia, though she smiled, kept her eyes lowered, her thoughts unfathomable…

(To be continued)